NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-21: To Catch a Butterfly

I approached the oldest tree in the forest
With the most convoluted trunk formation
His dead branches are his reverent statues
I ask him how to catch a butterfly
Like the ones that surround him
But never dare to land
He speaks of stillness and patience,
but I know stillness alone
Only catches precluded hope
Vulnerable to gusts of wind
The triumph of the will of random chance
Builds only the valor of serendipity

Great wisdom in stillness
but once stillness is achieved
Knowledge and strength will hold her loyalty
Moments conquered and foes bested
Will keep the gentle creature invested
For only when your honor is tested
Will she be yours forever

The tree laughs at my thoughts
"Of course you must possess knowledge and strength
You must carry the world
Until you know the weight and origin
of every twig and pebble
And witness every transgression of the will of chance
And how every precious moment can slip from worthy hands
And into idle hands
For they are just as still as yours and no less noble
And imbued with the strength of Earth
And the knowledge of life's burden
That you won't know forever until you're there
You must carry it all
And still remain motionless
When she lands in your hands
Your existence must be
As light as hers

Before I understood
I had to know why none landed on him
"In my stillness I lost vigilance
My branch fell off
Crushed her against the ground
Not one has landed for even a moment since"

I set fire to his fallen branches
And pushed them into his hollow trunk
And when the blaze was finished
I stood upon the ashen mound
And mingled my roots with the soil below

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-20: Defined Flesh

I was fucking this girl the other night
She was plump, but her face had good definition
I really enjoyed the movement of the fat
That clung to her ribcage
It makes clapping sounds as
The folds of her flesh open
and close
The erratic occurrences of the sound
Are an indictment of my poor rhythm
But she seems to be having a decent time
My hands caress without restricting
the motion
I want to touch her with
More of myself than I have
I consider what it would be like to
Clone myself at this moment
so that while I fuck her traditionally
I can also fuck the temporary crevice
Resulting from the collision
Of her belly fat and her torso fat
Then I turn her sideways and grab
Her shoulder facing me
And fuck her like an accordion
I stretch her topmost leg
So my midsection
Which is fairly lean
Is making fiercely satisfying impact with
The broad side of her
tidal wave thigh
The carnal chaos from my perspective
Reminds me of a supersized desktop pendulum made of jello
in a dryer made of glass
Now in need of distraction
I consider the slender women I've had in the past
My prominent pelvic bone
crashing into theirs like a stubbed toe
Because I need to push much harder
To find the fleshy friction I crave
Even with this image in mind
I feel myself approaching the point of no return
I signal this in the Morse code of thrusts
And in that moment, amidst all
The crashing creases and pelvic displacement
I can feel her insides undulate
and then skip a few beats
Signing an approval for withdrawal
I dispense swift sticky justice
All over her abdomen
After a few moments, she permits me
To break eye contact
So I can survey ground zero
Her glistening body decorated with
An archipelago of an uneven distribution
Of translucent white globules
Reminds me of a fresh glazed
French pastry
In which I will soon indulge

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-19: Chasing a Dog

If I sought knowledge
With the naive enthusiasm
That you seek to get hit by a car
The turning pages of books would braise my unclasping eyelashes

If I procured riches
With the same magnetic diligence
That pulls you repeatedly into unrelenting traffic
I'd hire a bum to chase you
and hire a social worker for the bum
And hire a much needed assistant for the social worker

If the confusion I feel at night
Mimicked your zigzag pattern of flight
I'd need to leave a trial of clues
To know how I really feel about anything

If my quest for love agape
Seemed as innocent pure and innate
As your crusade to meet that gratifying impact
Then everybody would believe me

If my desire to be run over by a car
Matched your desire to be run over by a car
I'd have done so successfully by now

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-18: Dream David Bowie

David Bowie,
why do you show me
Slight disdain in my dreams
You even regret the energy spent
To express vague disapproval, it seems
It would sting much less
If your indifference would progress
Into at least a committed hate
A taunt, jive, or quip
Instead of merely a sip
Of your true opinion's state

I've done nothing to earn his irk
But even if I was a jerk
He would offer me a vexation most venerable
Perhaps the nothing I've done
Is the very means by which I've won
His jaded response to my existence in general

If only I weren't such a walking abortion in his mind
Tripping over my loathsome bedraggled umbilical chord
He'd form at least a sentence of recognition
But I'm too much waste for his taste
And if I don't make haste
To provide fodder for his point of view
To say, "Fuck you, dream David Bowie
You don't even know me"
So perhaps he'd say "fuck you, too!"

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-17: Important Suffering

Hidden mantra:
If it didn't hurt this much
It wouldn't have been worth it
Are these delusions from pain?
Doing this alone amounts to surgery sans anesthesia
So my nose is on the ground but my head is in the clouds
My shoulder is pressed against a vending machine
It's just a casual passive lean, but I wish for a deluge of candy bars
So I keep my mouth open in preparation
One day I will leave my umbrella home under lifeless clear skies
And remove the condom from my wallet before heading out
And that night, I will make love in the driving rain

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-16: Fucking Target

I want to implode myself
Demolish, crumble, rebuild
I arrange dynamite
And pray that I don't facilitate
The creation of an emotional strip mall
In place of the rich history contained
In the walls of the condemned structure
Photos featured on flyers petitioning beneath windshield wipers
"Save our history"
"All needn't perish in the quest for functionality"
Scrawled across a picket in my mind
I grip the sign with both hands
And rip it
Without noticing
That the perforated line leads
To an empty Target parking lot
That we once lent character to
Fortunately, I still have enough dynamite
All I need is a match

NAPOWRIMO Splatterings 4-15: Somebody in a Smoking Jacket is Crying on the Inside

Partly my words, mostly a cut-up of sentences spoken at the Klang Gallery, which I arranged in a way that makes sense to me:


1

I don't understand the transfer of light
Is it the first step or the destination
The key to locations manipulated by place
Via photons
Sexless penguins and flightless amoeba
What reason is there to walk at all
When your full-on projects make a fair trade for wisdom
The happy trail upstairs opened the door
To the self-funding room with a view
Which begs the question:
What did you do with that beer?

2

Thai or Vietnamese are the only questions
Spending some time in a converted house
Your 55th convert
I was watching you last Friday
Your reflection in those eyes close at seven
When they leave, everything closes
I am the hole in the donut
Devoid of nourishment
I will be just as sweet when I'm buried

3

I'll be back here every other week
Until I am 300 pounds
of shed flesh and food combination
Hop inside for three of Mark's?
Yes, he said!
All this bacon banging in the wind tunnel
Is the outside just as crunchy?
I'm going